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Fiction Friday! This weeks prompt: Physical beauty. It can open doors – and can also shut them. Write a scene in which a physically beautiful character is somehow impacted by that trait. If you are doing non-fiction, you can write about yourself or someone you know. Come back and link up here Friday. Word limit is 600. This piece literally picks up right after Courting, however all you really need to know is that last week Queen Snow White met her Prince, even if he was a little unexpected.

The Wiccan Wise released a sigh as she watched Queen Snow reach and forever bond the Raotherian, Syten to her. She couldn’t believe that after all the years of planning and preparation were now on the cusp of actualization. She reached out and touched the image of the Queen Snow in the crystal altar and with her fingertip brushed lightly the happiness gleaming in the Queen’s eye. The image in the crystal shuddered and rubbed her eyes quickly with the knuckles of her white hands. The Wiccan Wise’s smile was not kind, showing the sharp edges of her incisors which glinted quickly, flickering like a firefly.

Stepping back from the alter the Wiccan Wise straightened her spine and wondered if Queen Snow would ever know the price that others paid for the singularity of her beauty. Once the Snow Queens birthed their heirs, any girl child born with the promise of being as fair as the new Princess, was sent to distant lands or given to those of the Glade as she had been.

Most of the girl children had no memories of their own parents, did not know where they came from and became absorbed into whatever land they had been sent to, never knowing the reason they burned too hot so far from their chilly roots. In an act of kindness during the rituals of welcoming back the ice, the Wiccans of the Glade would cast their power out, reweaving and repairing the fraying strings of fate so that the parents of the stolen children where left with nothing more that the feeling of having misplaced something of mild importance.

Even though she had been indoctrinated early into the ways of the Glade and the ritual granting her the powers that allowed her to see and touch the strings was supposed to also wipe her totally clean of her previous identity, the Wiccan Wise remembered her family and her name and she whispered it to herself now so as not to lose her resolve, “Ochriese.”

Whenever thoughts of mercy entered her consciousness she would remember her mother held down screaming as they roughly ripped her away. Ochriese’s mother had kept her hidden because even as a baby, Ochriese had clearly displayed not only exceptional beauty, through very different from the Queens line, but striking powers. The kind of powers only the Wiccan Wise earn after a lifetime in the Glade. Unknowns are dangerous in this land, and she had been turned in to the Queens guard by one of her own family.

Ochriese felt the old surge of rage, familiar like friend, burn across her skin and checking to make sure she was alone in the clearing she closed her eyes and focused her energy to the palms of her hands. She could feel the steam rising between her toes from the damp grass and smelled the fear of the woodnyths whose messages of warning in the bark of the birch trees she had been purposefully misinterpreting for the Wiccans of the Glade. She then forced the energy quickly out until two red flames burned in each bronze colored hand, matching the fury of the green flames where her eyes had once been.

Syten, she thought, the bringer of the melting Prince.

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